


A Fine Performance

by Dee_Laundry



Category: House M.D. RPF
Genre: Awards, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-01
Updated: 2009-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hugh’s backstage, award in hand, waiting until it’s his turn for the pop-pop-pop of camera flashes and the nit-nit-nit of reporters’ questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fine Performance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of pure fiction. UTTERLY FALSE AND NEVER HAPPENED.

Hugh’s backstage, award in hand, waiting until it’s his turn for the pop-pop-pop of camera flashes and the nit-nit-nit of reporters’ questions. He hadn’t been kidding back when he’d wished for someone to hand him a free speech or two; he’d also like someone to hand him original answers to the questions that always come up, again and again. The accent, Vicodin, what it’s like to be away from his family so much –

The efficient young woman with headphones who’s been chaperoning him nudges him just then, and points to a nearby door. “Eleven minutes,” she says, escorting him over, and he barely has time to wonder what this unexpected detour means before he’s tucked in a small dressing room, the door being pushed shut by a rather recognizable hand.

“Hello,” Hugh says, in the deepest version of his own voice, because Robert’s smile is absolutely, familiarly wicked.

“I’m here to collect that hundred,” Robert says.

“Oh, no.” The statuette gets dumped on a handy nearby counter, next to Robert’s open cell phone. “I’m completely... strapped.” He’s breathing faster now, without even a touch yet, adrenaline and pleasurable anticipation coursing through him in a way no award in the world can incite. “Not a cent to my name. Anything else I can offer in recompense?”

Robert’s across the tiny room in three strides, arm wrapping around Hugh’s back, other hand in Hugh’s hair. “There is one thing.”

Their lips’ meeting is electric – Hugh doesn’t have time to berate himself for the cliché, because Robert’s hands are everywhere. Their kissing is loud and messy; the nice tux is getting a bit rumpled; maybe Hugh should think about taking it off, but then he doesn’t have to think, because Robert is very kindly removing it for him.

The trousers, anyway.

Robert is magical – and that’s not cliché; that’s a tube of lubricant appearing from, apparently, behind Hugh’s ear. They take a second to chuckle, and then Hugh’s turning around and bending, gripping the side of the counter, his head bowed low between the award and the phone.

Robert slaps his ass with a wet hand, producing a loud squelching sound that makes Hugh smile, before slipping slick fingers into Hugh’s crack. “This what you want?” he asks, voice deep and dangerous.

“Yes,” Hugh sighs. He’s ready for this, been ready since stepping onto the stage tonight, recently, a million years ago.

“Then say so,” Robert says. His fingers are still teasing, roaming around sensitive skin, tickling coarse hairs, making Hugh twitch.

Hugh turns his head to the side and says firmly, “Give it to me.”

Two fingers shove into him. His muscles protest the sudden hot intrusion, but Hugh breathes through it, panting, mouth open wantonly. Robert’s tongue is suddenly licking Hugh’s lips, _slurping_ his _saliva_ , and the fingers are pushing him open, making room for something much longer and wider, and – “Oh,” he groans as the fingers pull out and the head of Robert’s cock jabs lightly at the edge of his anus but doesn’t slide in.

“If you want more,” Robert reminds him, “you have to ask.”

“More,” Hugh says immediately. Robert’s lying across his back, holding him in place, sticky hand on his left hip, dry hand spread wide and firm on his chest. “More.”

“More what exactly?” Two more light jabs, a low moan from Robert’s lips, and Hugh wants to beg inarticulately, but he can’t.

“I want more of that.” Another light jab; words, words, Hugh has to form words. “Your cock, in my arse, filling me, fucking me –”

And that’s it, Robert’s pushing in, and it’s all that Hugh had been waiting for. “Yeah,” he groans, the pressure and friction and warmth overwhelming his senses.

“Talk,” Robert says between quiet gasps, as he slides back out. “Say how this feels.”

“Hot.” Hugh moans a short note when Robert slides back in again, setting a firm rhythm, not too fast, not too gentle. “Full, perfect.”

Robert kisses his ear sloppily, breathing hard.

“Oh God, so great,” Hugh continues. They’re not going to last long. “Warm, hot, amazing, rough.”

“What’s happening?” Robert whispers.

“You’re fucking me, cock driving into – ah – my arse.” It’s so difficult to talk when his head is spinning, when he can barely breathe from pleasure. “I’m so hard, God; I’m going to come any minute.”

“Without me touching your dick?”

“No,” Hugh replies, because they’ve tried that and it never works. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you.” The hand on Hugh’s hip wiggles, grips tighter, and he laughs breathlessly.

“My cock. Touch it, pull it, make me come. I want to come.”

“Busy,” Robert says, and then groans deeply. “Too busy. Touch yourself. Squeeze that dick and make yourself come. Let’s hear it.”

With a low moan, Hugh manages to get a hand down and wrap it around himself. He’s on the edge, close. “Gonna come.”

“Do it.”

“Gonna come.” It’s rushing through him, pure flames, any second now.

“Do it,” Robert groans, and his thrusts speed up. He’s close too but to be as close as Hugh, he’d have to be coming right... damn... now.

He goes silent for a second, then moans over Robert’s chant of “Oh god; oh god.” His ejaculate is flowing over his hand, hot and sticky, and then Robert’s hands suddenly clench Hugh closer, and he gets slammed into the counter.

They both shudder for a moment longer, heaving long deep breaths, before the moment is broken by another voice exclaiming, “Are you insane?”

Their heads whip toward the doorway – Hugh almost knocks the cell phone off the counter – to find Lisa standing there, agog. The door is closed, fortunately, and Hugh sighs a breath of relief. At least it’s only one person to catch them _in flagrante delicto_ , not the whole of the Screen Actors Guild.

“What are you thinking?” Lisa continues. She’s quite clearly angry, a glare in her eyes and hands on her hips. “Cheating on your wife?”

Hugh lays his head down on the counter, comforted by Robert’s arms tightening around him in a hug. “No, I learned my lesson the last time.”

“Excuse me?” Lisa asks.

Robert’s still hugging Hugh, nuzzling his neck, but he lifts his head to ask, “Jo?”

“Gorgeously hot as always,” Jo says from thousands of miles away, her melodic voice carrying quite nicely out of Robert’s phone. “Shame Gaby couldn’t conference in this time.”

“Dinner with her parents,” Robert explains. “But she sends her regrets.”

“Have her call me later, and I’ll play her the recording. Mmm. Think a bath would do me quite nicely now.”

“Good night, darling,” Hugh says contentedly. She really is the most marvelous woman he’s ever met. To indulge him in this, share it with him, and take her own pleasure in it is a rare and precious treasure.

“Good night, love,” she says warmly, “and to you too, Robert,” and the line clicks off.


End file.
